Originally posted elsewhere. Please give me some honest critique so I may master the art of hating things.
To begin: no, I have not read the books. I also never will. I have read about someone becoming physically ill while reading the original, and don't intend to do the same.
Just reading reviews and plot summaries are enough to piss me off. Hell, I'm fairly certain that a plot summary of Twilight is equivalent to the book (minus 200 or so pages of explaining how sexy Edward Cullen is).
To paraphrase our Lord and Savior, Benjamin Yahtzee Sebastian Godzilla Croshaw, teenage angst novels and I have an agreement: I don't read them and they can suck as much as they want far away from me. If Twilight had been just another noxious bubble in the toxic morass that is contemporary literature, I wouldn't have given two shits. Not even one shit, in fact. But no, it had to go and stink up the mainstream. I was fine with that, even.
Then I read about it. About how the vampires fucking sparkle. Sure, it's original, but so is trying to make a car that runs on dead squirrels: just because it's original does not mean it's good.
I'm pretty sure it's a well-known fact that vampires do NOT sparkle in the sunlight. They fucking disintegrate. Jesus Howard McLeroy Christ III, esq., people!
And then, it was freaking on.
Since I'm already on the topic, let's talk about Twilight's twinkling twats. If I'm not mistaken, the vampires sparkle to help them attract prey (i.e. humans). Now, I don't know about you, but unless I had recently consumed a massive quantity of hallucinogenic substances, if I saw someone sparkling, I would run the fuck away.
"But wait!" you may be saying. "It's Stephenie Meyer's book! She can do whatever she wants with vampires!"
First, shut up. Second, let me tell you about the concept of artistic liberties. I will be using two examples.
My first is a relatively recent endeavor: Kohta Hirano's legendary Hellsing, a manga that ended an eleven-year run recently. Its main character is a lanky vampire known as Alucard. To put it bluntly, if the concept of being badass had a physical form, it would be Alucard. Nigh-invincible, strong as an ox, and wielding a pair of obscenely large handguns, he cut a bloody swath through every foe he faced.
Of course, there were many other vampires. A few of them wielded bizarre, interesting abilities, such as the creation of illusions or the usage of a musket that fired a homing ball. Add this to the extremely cool (for lack of a better word) character designs, and you get something that is both good and original.
The best part? None of the vampires were pussies (well, maybe one, but she made up for it when she ground somebody's head against a wall until they had half a face).
My second example is a piece of fiction that fits into the regular definition of "literature": Richard Matheson's I Am Legend. The book, which does not have that much in common with the recent adaptation starring Will Smith, is a sobering tale of the last man on Earth.
In addition to being a classic, the book succeeds in giving a realistic, believable vampire biology, giving all of their weaknesses a scientific basis (in his story, vampirism is caused by a strain of bacteria). Even the title is a metaphor, and a brilliant one at that.
There. I just gave you two pieces of fiction superior to Twilight.
Now, let's discuss the story.
From what I gather, the entire basis of these four-I hesitate to call them books-is the relationship between the biggest Mary-Sue this side of FanFiction.net and a vampire with about as much personality as the mold that grows in people's showers. Also, in a stunning (/sarcasm) plot twist, there is a third person in all this: Jacob the werewolf, who actually seems believable.
Stephenie Meyer claims that she isn't a very good writer, but is a good storyteller. She's one-for-two, there.
According to reviews and summaries, the plot is basically this:
"Hi! I'm Jacob. I respect you as a person and would be a kind and loving husband."
"EEWWWWW!!"
"Hello. My name is Edward. Being over a hundred years old, I am legally a pedophile, but I'm so damn sexy that you won't care."
"SQUEEEE!"
I wish I was fucking kidding.
Let me tell you something about good storytelling. Getting hormone-crazed teenage girls to fall in love with the epitome of manliness is not good storytelling. Do you know what good storytelling is? Getting readers to fall in love (metaphorically) with a 5'6", 140, brutal, ugly-as-sin objectivist with a penchant for destroying people's hands. Drawing from the same piece of literature, the storytelling was so brilliant that I felt sympathy for a man who almost raped someone and shot the woman who was carrying his child.
Probably the greatest sin committed by Meyer takes place in the last book, when she completely goes back on her established vampire biology and makes it so that vampires can make babies. Ignoring the obvious question of how a person with no blood flow can get a boner, this angers me to no end. You don't retcon your own books. EVER. That would be like Terry Pratchett saying that the Discworld is actually round and that Great A'Tuin doesn't actually exist.
To finish: why do I hate Twilight? Because of the effect it will have on literature. Schlock like this gaining bestseller status opens the door for aspiring authors to eschew character development in favor of shitty angst.
Congratulations, Stephenie Meyer. You may have destroyed modern literature.
Everyone, I ask a favor: every time you see someone holding a copy of Twilight or one of its sequels, burn the copy and stick Bram Stoker's Dracula or I Am Legend in there, instead.
Vampires don't sparkle, and we're going to make sure that these Twitards understand this.
To begin: no, I have not read the books. I also never will. I have read about someone becoming physically ill while reading the original, and don't intend to do the same.
Just reading reviews and plot summaries are enough to piss me off. Hell, I'm fairly certain that a plot summary of Twilight is equivalent to the book (minus 200 or so pages of explaining how sexy Edward Cullen is).
To paraphrase our Lord and Savior, Benjamin Yahtzee Sebastian Godzilla Croshaw, teenage angst novels and I have an agreement: I don't read them and they can suck as much as they want far away from me. If Twilight had been just another noxious bubble in the toxic morass that is contemporary literature, I wouldn't have given two shits. Not even one shit, in fact. But no, it had to go and stink up the mainstream. I was fine with that, even.
Then I read about it. About how the vampires fucking sparkle. Sure, it's original, but so is trying to make a car that runs on dead squirrels: just because it's original does not mean it's good.
I'm pretty sure it's a well-known fact that vampires do NOT sparkle in the sunlight. They fucking disintegrate. Jesus Howard McLeroy Christ III, esq., people!
And then, it was freaking on.
Since I'm already on the topic, let's talk about Twilight's twinkling twats. If I'm not mistaken, the vampires sparkle to help them attract prey (i.e. humans). Now, I don't know about you, but unless I had recently consumed a massive quantity of hallucinogenic substances, if I saw someone sparkling, I would run the fuck away.
"But wait!" you may be saying. "It's Stephenie Meyer's book! She can do whatever she wants with vampires!"
First, shut up. Second, let me tell you about the concept of artistic liberties. I will be using two examples.
My first is a relatively recent endeavor: Kohta Hirano's legendary Hellsing, a manga that ended an eleven-year run recently. Its main character is a lanky vampire known as Alucard. To put it bluntly, if the concept of being badass had a physical form, it would be Alucard. Nigh-invincible, strong as an ox, and wielding a pair of obscenely large handguns, he cut a bloody swath through every foe he faced.
Of course, there were many other vampires. A few of them wielded bizarre, interesting abilities, such as the creation of illusions or the usage of a musket that fired a homing ball. Add this to the extremely cool (for lack of a better word) character designs, and you get something that is both good and original.
The best part? None of the vampires were pussies (well, maybe one, but she made up for it when she ground somebody's head against a wall until they had half a face).
My second example is a piece of fiction that fits into the regular definition of "literature": Richard Matheson's I Am Legend. The book, which does not have that much in common with the recent adaptation starring Will Smith, is a sobering tale of the last man on Earth.
In addition to being a classic, the book succeeds in giving a realistic, believable vampire biology, giving all of their weaknesses a scientific basis (in his story, vampirism is caused by a strain of bacteria). Even the title is a metaphor, and a brilliant one at that.
There. I just gave you two pieces of fiction superior to Twilight.
Now, let's discuss the story.
From what I gather, the entire basis of these four-I hesitate to call them books-is the relationship between the biggest Mary-Sue this side of FanFiction.net and a vampire with about as much personality as the mold that grows in people's showers. Also, in a stunning (/sarcasm) plot twist, there is a third person in all this: Jacob the werewolf, who actually seems believable.
Stephenie Meyer claims that she isn't a very good writer, but is a good storyteller. She's one-for-two, there.
According to reviews and summaries, the plot is basically this:
"Hi! I'm Jacob. I respect you as a person and would be a kind and loving husband."
"EEWWWWW!!"
"Hello. My name is Edward. Being over a hundred years old, I am legally a pedophile, but I'm so damn sexy that you won't care."
"SQUEEEE!"
I wish I was fucking kidding.
Let me tell you something about good storytelling. Getting hormone-crazed teenage girls to fall in love with the epitome of manliness is not good storytelling. Do you know what good storytelling is? Getting readers to fall in love (metaphorically) with a 5'6", 140, brutal, ugly-as-sin objectivist with a penchant for destroying people's hands. Drawing from the same piece of literature, the storytelling was so brilliant that I felt sympathy for a man who almost raped someone and shot the woman who was carrying his child.
Probably the greatest sin committed by Meyer takes place in the last book, when she completely goes back on her established vampire biology and makes it so that vampires can make babies. Ignoring the obvious question of how a person with no blood flow can get a boner, this angers me to no end. You don't retcon your own books. EVER. That would be like Terry Pratchett saying that the Discworld is actually round and that Great A'Tuin doesn't actually exist.
To finish: why do I hate Twilight? Because of the effect it will have on literature. Schlock like this gaining bestseller status opens the door for aspiring authors to eschew character development in favor of shitty angst.
Congratulations, Stephenie Meyer. You may have destroyed modern literature.
Everyone, I ask a favor: every time you see someone holding a copy of Twilight or one of its sequels, burn the copy and stick Bram Stoker's Dracula or I Am Legend in there, instead.
Vampires don't sparkle, and we're going to make sure that these Twitards understand this.
